


The Empress and the Star

by Destiny_Smasher



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Adulthood, Cafe Leblanc (Persona 5), Coming Out, Coming of Age, F/F, Gen, Time Skips, young adulthood
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-11-14 13:27:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18053375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destiny_Smasher/pseuds/Destiny_Smasher
Summary: Six years after the Phantom Thieves' battles, Haru -- now the owner of her own coffee and tea shop -- struggles to keep the group balanced and connected despite the differing paths they've all taken in life. Meanwhile, her old friend Ren seems lost without purpose, and her connection with Hifumi, a regular at her shop, has taken a surprisingly romantic turn. Unsure as to how to approach either situation, Haru simultaneously manages to stay tethered to the rest of the old team.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Going with 'Ren Amamiya' for the protagonist's name, since that seems to be canon per the video games.  
> This fic comes to you thanks to @callowguru

  
[ “Good afternoon, Amamiya-San. Or evening. _Hm._ Or _morning_. Whenever you receive this. Hopefully you _will_ receive this soon. I...admit I am slightly worried you might ignore this as you seem to with other messages as of late. It's been some time since you've responded, and it makes me wonder if perhaps my lack of familiarity with these kinds of things is causing me to miss something. Well. Regardless, I know you said you were supposed to be coming to visit us soon, but I haven't heard from you since. I hope you're doing OK.” ]  
  
<<<<<<<  
  
As her driver slowed the car to a crawl, the heavy rain pressing against the roof above, Haru was distracted by a text message on her phone.  
  
[ 6:00pm it is, then, Madame. ]  
[ I look forward to it. ;) ]  
  
_O-Oh, my_ , such a...bold emoticon to employ! Surely it didn't...imply what Haru _thought_ it implied, did it? Or...maybe it _did?_ After all, the sender was always very concise and deliberate with the way things were phrased, presented, and expressed. Oh, my. Perhaps this truly _was_ 'a date,' then?  
  
Haru could feel her heart surge with embarrassed excitement.  
  
“We've arrived,” said her driver, glancing at her through the rear-view mirror.  
  
“Mm,” Haru hummed affirmatively, nodding. She scooped up her umbrella from the empty seat at her side, drew up her raincoat's hood, and tucked her phone safely away.  
  
Her driver checked, “When shall I pick you up, Okumura-Sama?”  
  
“An hour should suffice,” she replied primly. “Please call me when you arrive, and I will meet you here.”  
  
“Understood, Ma'am.”  
  
“Thank you, um...-” She was tempted to employ the driver's first name, to be more informal, but-...Instead, she cleared her throat, nodded once more, and took her leave with, “I will see you soon.”  
  
Stepping out from her warm car and into the frigid, soaked, torrential downpour of Yongen-Jaya, Haru relished the gray, washed over sky – like paint spilled across a canvas, left to spread. Her commanding boots sharply contacted the rain-slick sidewalk of the alleyway she navigated. Her driver remained parked nearby – it was difficult to get privacy as of late, but Haru was her own woman now. It had been six years since her father had passed away, and she'd asserted herself in as much as seemed reasonable. She'd been left a fortune, and while this did, admittedly, cloud her perception of the world and the lives of most citizens, she was determined to use her resources for the good of those she cared for, all the while pursuing her own edification and self-enrichment.  
  
Approaching the seemingly plain café nestled in a side street, across from a cramped laundromat, her mind massaged by the heavy rainfall, Haru savored the familiar sensations of this particular alleyway. She had spent many months, years, coming to this restaurant, nearly every day, studying under Sojiro Sakura. Le Blanc would always have a soft spot in her heart – not just due to Haru's extended period as a part-time employee, but of course because of the locale's importance in that crazy year when everything had happened. When fates had collided, when minds had been manipulated, when souls had been salvaged.  
  
Haru's father had been a victim of all of that. But so had Futaba's mother.  
Bad things did not inherently lead to good things.  
  
But Haru liked to find solace in the power of empathy.  
  
Her many days spent at this very café had started as a means to learn from Sakura-San, to prepare herself to create her own personal coffee shop. But, like Ren before her, Haru had been captivated by Le Blanc, and had found herself innately tied to its owner and his daughter.  
  
>>>>>>>  
  
[ “I know you've been keeping to yourself lately, but I thought that perhaps it might be useful to hear about what everyone has been up to recently. It could help you ease back into things when you arrive, don't you think? Hm. I suppose I'll wait and see if I get a call back from you. _O-Oh,_ but, um...please don't feel obligated. It _has_ been a while, and I know this kind of thing can be a bit challenging. So, how about this? I'll send you some text messages instead. There's still some time before your visit, so you can read through them at your own pace. I hope it helps. Please know that we're all looking forward to seeing you again, Amamiya-San.” ]  
  
<<<<<<<

 

The familiar, always-comforting jangling of the door's gentle bell sent a warm rush down Haru's spine. The café was quieter than Haru remembered. A bit colder, too. She'd been hoping for a bit of respite from the chilly winter rain. Perhaps some hot coffee would rectify this.  
  
“Oh, whoa,  _hey_ !” Futaba, dressed in a zipped up coat and cargo pants, perked right up from her laptop screen. The fact that Futaba tore her headphones off and even  _closed_ her laptop at the mere sight of her friend gave Haru a fuzzy feeling of pride. Haru had, after years of care, become  _more important_ than Futaba's computer, hmhm.  
  
“Good afternoon,” Haru greeted, hovering by the door as she gingerly closed it behind her. Futaba was scrambling to get out of her booth.  
  
“Well,  _well_ ,” said Sojiro, turning the volume down on his television. As Futaba tackled into Haru with a vigorous hug, Sojiro mused, “And here I thought it was a dull and dreary day...”  
  
“Onee-chan~” Futaba burst out, squeezing Haru tighter than expected.  
  
“Imouto-chan,” Haru chuckled back, reciprocating Futaba's 'big sister' honorific with a 'little sister' equivalent.  
  
“I was starting to worry that you'd outgrown this place entirely,” said Sojiro with his usual tone. It was like mixing a compliment into a bitter drink of self-deprecation, not unlike some cream being stirred into a dark roast.  
  
With Futaba giggling as she rushed to clean up her messy booth, Haru replied to her old Boss, “Nonsense, Sakura-San.” Walking up to the counter to greet him more personally, she insisted, “I've been a bit busy lately, but I don't think I will  _ever_ 'outgrow' your cuisine.”  
  
“Amfff shrrr wohmmt!” Futaba agreed, stuffing her face with the last dollop of curry from her plate.  
  
>>>>>>>  
  
[ Since I know it must be at the front of your mind, I'll confirm that our 'little sister' is doing well! Futaba-chan misses you dearly, you know. I don't mean to be intrusive, since I am quite aware of how difficult a time you are having, but...It would do you both some good if you were to reply to her with more regularity. You left a strong mark on her life in a very impressionable time. I'm doing what I can to be a positive influence in her life, and to be fair, that has been reciprocated in kind on her part. But I can't shake this notion that you both have drifted away from each other, and that it must be a painful gap. I fear she has perhaps given up on what she once shared with you, and that would be quite a tragic loss for you both, wouldn't you agree? ]  
  
<<<<<<<  
  
“ _Hey_ ,” said Sojiro with a scolding, disbelieving tone when Futaba placed her dirty plate and cup on the counter. “Aren't you going to clean that?”  
  
Futaba had made it halfway over to Haru, but the glimmer in her eyes withered in an instant.  
  
“W-well,  _yea,_ obvs, I just, um...-” Futaba was floundering, gesturing vaguely at Haru, as if her presence granted invulnerability to Sakura-san's house rules.  
  
But Sojiro was not having any of this.  
  
Glancing over her shoulder at her father's deadpan scowl with arms crossed, Futaba slowly whirled her entire body back around and scooped up the dirty dishes, hurriedly whisking herself to the washing sink.  
  
With a slow shake of his head and a soft chuckle, Sojiro turned his gaze to Haru.  
  
“Some things never change, huh?” he mused.  
  
“I was tempted to offer to clean them myself,” Haru confessed, setting her wet umbrella leaned up again the entryway wall.  
  
“Oh, I'm  _sure_ ,” Sojiro acknowledged, “which is exactly why I spoke up. You're not my employee anymore.”  
  
“That doesn't mean I can't still help from time to time, does it?” posed Haru, peeling off her raincoat. She gently set it upon the coat rack by the phone – one she'd picked herself for Sojiro as a gift to the café a while back. She'd pressed that a proper to hang up one's coat made anywhere feel just a little more homely.  
  
“Heh, I won't stop you if you're gonna insist,” remarked Sojiro, shuffling himself over to his coffee kettle.  
  
>>>>>>>  
  
[ Sakura-San and I have developed quite the rapport, you can imagine. When I asked to study under him, he was certainly hesitant, remember? I still appreciate your words of encouragement when he rejected my request. If not for your advice, I'm not sure I would have mustered the courage to ask him again. But I am quite glad I did, and to be honest, I think he is, too. I've never mentioned it before to you but he later confessed that part of why he denied me outright was that he didn't appreciate the idea of replacing you at Le Blanc. That hiring a new part-time pupil entailed accepting your absence. I'm sure you can imagine how Sakura-San's mind works when it comes to these kinds of matters. Maybe it was his changed state of mind after we'd resolved things as Phantom Thieves or – admittedly – maybe it was my identity as a young woman, but Sojiro actually was a lot warmer and kind-hearted than I recall you forewarning me he would be. It's a bit conflicting to me, the way gender can impact the way people treat one another, but I can't deny that it is indeed a factor, especially for the generation that's come before us. But in the same way Sojiro likely learned a thing or two from you (or even three, dare I say), I've been quite pleased with everything I've learned from him. Café Noire wouldn't be what it is without his guidance, I'm certain. ]  
  
<<<<<<<  
  
“OK-okay-ohhhhkayyyy,” Futaba sighed out, flicking sink water from her fingers. “There, it's all clean, can I spend  _time_ with her now?”  
  
Futaba and Sojiro exchanged an awkward moment of tension, and Sakura-San shifted his weight a little, a hand on his hip and a skeptical glint in his eye.  
  
“Why is it that the second Okumura-San shows up I'm back to being the stifling old man?”  
  
With a wry little smirk as she walked past him, the counter separating them, Futaba remarked, “You always  _are_ the stifling old man, Sojiro, you've just gotten good at making me forget it.”  
  
Puffing out a confused laugh through his nose, Sakura-San shrugged at Haru, sighing, “I can't tell if that's a compliment, or  _what_ .”  
  
“It is,” Futaba said with a shrewd, saccharine tone. With her hands latched behind her back, she marched up to Haru again, kicking her feet out a bit with each step. “ _Now,_ then.” She held up an index finger, grinning at Haru. “Time to show you what I've been working on!”  
  
“Oh?” Haru placated, following Futaba's beckoning. She was led to the booth –  _the_ booth, the one the group had always used back in the day – and took a seat beside Futaba. She watched her 'little sister' excitedly open up her laptop. Haru veered her eyes away for a moment – she found it rude to stare at a person's screen, it just...felt inappropriate. Like peeking through a door into their bedroom, in a sense.  
  
Her gaze wandered across the shoved-together items on the table. A '1-Up' energy drink can, a squashed, empty pocky box, a couple wrappers from some green tea Kit Kat candy...It seemed Futaba's excitement that afternoon was at least somewhat sugar-induced, hm?  
  
Sojiro, having noted that Futaba had now 'taken' Haru for the time being, went back to his television viewing and coffee brewing. The midday news was playing, but it seemed to serve more as background noise than anything.  
  
[ “-in the impending trial of Thomas Nook, who is currently being incarcerated under multiple charges of extortion and embezzlement. Mr. Nook has pleaded innocent, claiming that-” ]  
  
“ _Gurrrghhh_ ...-” Futaba was growling to herself, her fingers suddenly typing away at her keyboard like mad.  
  
Rather than engage in small talk, which Haru knew Futaba had no use or interest in, Haru took a moment to meditate beneath the familiar blanket of senses surrounding her in Le Blanc.  
  
>>>>>>>  
  
[ Futaba-chan has been away at college after Sojiro and I convinced her to attend. She jokes that she is studying 'computer pscience.' I get the impression that her studies are quite easy for her, since it entails formal education focused on things she already excelled at. I'm not quite sure the experience is as edifying for her as university studies are meant to be, but living on a campus, on her own, without us there...I think it's been helping her grow in new ways. She insists that without our help she would never have collected the courage to function in such a setting. I'm not sure what she ultimately wants to do with the skills she is perfecting, but whatever she does, I'm certain she will be rather efficient at it. ]  
  
<<<<<<<  
  
  
“Ha- _ha!_ Bam!” Futaba swiveled her laptop to the side, eager to show Haru what was on its screen.  
  
Adjusting to the harsh, bright light being pushed against her eyes, Haru wasn't quite sure what she was looking at. Photos of-...Oh, Café Noire? Ah, yes.  
  
“Oh,” noted Haru, “Is this the new version of the website you'd mentioned?”  
  
“Darn  _right_ it is! Go ahead, give it a whirl!”  
  
Futaba gestured her wrist toward the mouse pad at the laptop's base, and Haru awkwardly finagled her delicate finger across its surface, accidentally swiping the entire page all up and down further than she'd intended. Laughing weakly in spite of her computer illiteracy, she managed to figure out how to navigate the site and was checking out photos of the venue – photos Yusuke had taken, she recalled – which were combined with eye-catching strokes of illustration.  
  
“Lookin' pretty spiffy, huh?” bragged Futaba. “There's something to be said about slick U.I., amirite?”  
  
It certainly did appear to have more personality than the original website design.  
  
“Wait, is-...Is this already online?” Haru mumbled, suddenly stricken with alarm.  
  
“Huh?  _Ohhh,_ no-no-no,” Futaba assured, emitting her own weak laugh. “Uhhh, think of this like a simulation of what it would look like if we  _did_ set it up. Your current version is still its same old self, but with your approval, I can replace it with this newer, upgraded version whenever you want – of course, I mean, you probably have some requests, some tweaks, weeee-” Futaba dismissively flicked her wrists. “-can always sort that stuff out later, I just-...Ya know, I wanted you to see what we've come up with. This is  _so_ cool, getting to put this together for you!”  
  
“Y-Yes, it's...exciting to see what you and Yusuke-san have been creating together.”  
  
Haru was alarmed when the screen popped up some...strange thing she didn't recognize, some kind of conversation? O-Oh, my, it looked like a private chat, she didn't want to intrude, and so...she looked away, nudging the computer back to Futaba.  
  
Scratching at an itch beneath the rim of her glasses, Futaba mumbled, “ _Eh,_ well, turns out that doofus isn't  _that_ bad when we're actually on the same page about something... _Speaking_ of which...-” She typed at her keyboard for a moment, then pushed the laptop back to Haru again. “He's been pestering me all afternoon about the designs he cooked up. Getting all self-conscious and junk. I mean,  _jeez,_ I dunno what he's so worked up about. Maybe if you talk with him you can get him to calm down.”  
  
“O-Oh, I, um...-” Haru felt her cheeks burn up a bit. She was being put on the spot, here, and it wasn't like her and Yusuke were the most compatible of human beings.  
  
Trying to avoid the earlier portion of the conversation, Haru read the latest comment.  
  
[ Truly? She's right at your side, this very moment? ]  
  
Haru's fingers lingered over the keyboard as she fretted over a reply. Futaba guzzled the last of her energy drink with a pleasant sigh and a small blech.  
  
_-rrrrrrmmmm!_ -  
  
Haru squeaked with alarm, only to realize her own phone had vibrated. Warily pulling it out of her pocket in case it was important, she...was confused.  
  
It was a text message from Yusuke.  
  
[ Futaba has informed me that you are currently in her vicinity, and that she has revealed to you our prototype. ]  
[ Is this correct? ]  
  
Haru needed a second to process.  
  
“He just texted you, didn't he?” Futaba dryly figured out.  
  
“He did,” Haru warily confirmed.  
  
“Maybe just text him back, then,” sighed Futaba, pulling her computer back over. “I noticed an issue just now when you were browsing, gonna try and patch that hole up, here...”  
  
As Futaba got to work, Haru tried to chat with Yusuke.  
  
-[ Hello! Yes, I am at Le Blanc right now, and I did get to see the new website! ]  
  
He responded,  
[ I see. ]-  
[ Well, what do you make of it? ]-  
[ Please, do not hold back your criticisms. ]-  
  
Haru typed back as quickly as her thumbs could,  
-[ I like the new style. It's quite bold. ]  
-[ It's not exactly my personal taste, but that was the whole idea. ]  
-[ I want this café to grow beyond my individual style. ]  
-[ It's refreshing to see a fusion of your and Futaba's sensibilities. ]  
-[ I never thought I'd see the day you both collaborated on something! ]  
  
Haru briefly considered adding something like,  _'I'm proud of you two,'_ but opted against it. Her good intentions would probably be misread as patronizing. But she  _was_ proud of them, all the same.  
  
Yusuke answered,  
[ Yes, Futaba is indeed rather competent with her skill set. ]-  
[ It's an agreeable transaction of cooperation, all for the sake of Café Noire. ]-  
[ I hope our collective vision enables you to find the audience your hard work deserves. ]-  


>>>>>>>  
  
[ Yusuke and I admittedly don't share much in common and I have some difficulty connecting with him, but I think there is a mutual respect in our pursuits. He visits Café Noire on occasion and I even commissioned a painting from him to hang near the entrance. Though it's been some time since he's laid sight on my Persona, he was able to capture it via abstraction quite elegantly. I think in a way his work has benefited from our group going separate ways. He says he has few distractions as of late, which has enabled him to pursue opportunities to apply what he's learned from his relationships with us. He's been busy doing book illustrations, I understand. Futaba-chan has been directly collaborating with him for graphic design work. You must remember how frequently those two butted heads, yes? I don't think they've resolved those differences, but I can tell that Futaba enjoys his work being implemented into her websites. And while he makes a fuss, I think Yusuke actually enjoys coordinating with her. It seems like such a challenge to me – adapting skills honed via physical media and applying them to a digital space? But the website that he and Futaba produced for Café Noire is elegantly designed and functional. I'm glad I could entrust them with the task. ]  
  
<<<<<<<  
  
As Haru typed out a quick  
-[ Thank you for your work! ]  
Futaba finished up what she'd been tinkering with, and slapped her laptop shut.  
  
A bit surprised, Haru followed suit, tucking her phone away.  
  
“All right, enough shop-talk,” Futaba insisted. With a twinkle in her eye and a toothy grin, she decided quietly, “Let's hang out.”  
  
“O-Oh, well, I, um...-” Haru was a bit startled. She'd advised Futaba that they'd have the weekend together, but it wasn't... _quite_ the weekend yet, now was it? It was Friday afternoon. “I can spare a little time, but I  _do_ have to visit the shop before it gets too late. I have some inventory to manage, and, um...-” She could feel her face get a bit warm as her mind popped alive with the rush of imaginative excitement at who was supposed to be waiting for her.  
  
“ _Oh_ ,” Futaba said slyly, softly, and with her eyelids lowered with smug suspicion. “'And,  _um,_ ' huh?” She elbowed Haru gently, hissing out a sneaky laugh between her smiling teeth. “I gotcha. I'm pickin' up what yer puttin' down...”  
  
“I-...Um, excuse me?” Haru wavered, her chest hot with embarrassment. Futaba  _knew_ about Haru's...recent social escapades, but she'd picked up rather immediately on Haru's impending date that evening, which she had told no one about, specifically. Was it really that obvious, then? Well, to Futaba-chan, at least.  
  
“We should squeeze in some girl time,” Futaba announced, getting up from the table and wedging her laptop in her armpit. She added quietly enough so that Sojiro couldn't hear, “Ya know. Before your 'and,  _um_ ' time...”  
  
Cheeks boiling, Haru kept her demeanor calm as she scooted out of the booth behind Futaba, scrounging up the girl's scraps of garbage and binning them with care while Futaba explained to her dad, “We're gonna go hang out upstairs for a bit!”  
  
“Don't go making a mess of things,” Sojiro advised to his daughter's back as she bounded along.  
  
“We won't,” Haru placated pleasantly, rinsing her hands at the dish sink.  
  
“I know  _you_ won't,” Sojiro sighed with a smile. “I just worry that she might make herself too much at home up there, just because that knucklehead's not been around for a while. It's still  _his_ room, even if he hasn't been using it lately...”  
  
As she pulled out a tiny bottle of hand moisturizer from her pocket to apply to her delicate palms, Haru caught wind of the glazed over look into Sojiro's eyes.  
  
“I'm certain that Amamiya-San will greatly appreciate the condition you've kept his room in.”  
  
“ _Puhyeah,_ ” Sojiro puffed out with a wistful shrug. “Guy hasn't shown up in  _how_ long, now?”  
  
“But this place is still a home for him when he  _does_ show up,” Haru reminded. “Which will be soon enough.”  
  
With a deep inhalation, Sojiro paused, scratched at his nose, nodded, and sighed out his held in breath.  
  
“Yep,” he grunted, clearly containing some conflicted emotion.  
  
“Is...something the matter, Sakura-San?” Haru wiped her palms together, applying her lotion.  
  
Sojiro's distant expression flashed with self-awareness as he made himself busy with some coffee-brewing.  
  
“Not really,” he cited. “Just feels like the wait for that crazy fool to show his face around here gets longer and longer every time. It baffles me a little, is all.”  
  
“What does?” Haru pondered, her hands now adequately moisturized.  
  
“ _Agh,_ just-...” Rubbing the back of his head with some doubt, he mumbled, “Didn't he finish university some while ago? I would've thought...-” The poor man trailed off. Haru understood.  
  
Sojiro had likely expected Ren to move back to Yongen-Jaya at some point. Some point earlier than the present, at least. It had been six years, after all. The decision baffled Haru, as well. Surely, she could understand a lack of desire to move back into a dusty attic, but...Amamiya-San hadn't seemed to express any interest in returning to the region, in general. At all. And yet he'd seemed quite conflicted and remorseful about leaving in the first place. It was...disheartening, to say the least. It probably didn't help matters for Sakura-San to know that Futaba would be 'all grown up' soon enough, as well. There was no telling where Futaba would end up. And where would that leave Sojiro?  
  
Alone.  
  
Haru wasn't entirely sure what all she could do about this possible inevitability. But she was determined to make an honest effort at ensuring the man was  _not_ left alone. Futaba and Ren were family to him. And she knew that was reciprocated. She couldn't  _make_ the three of them stay connected, but she felt so strongly that it was in their best interests to do so. It was in this precise moment of seeing that glimmer of vulnerable fear in Sojiro's sunken eyes that Haru decided she would deliberately confront – er, discuss? – the matter with Amamiya-San when he visited.  
  
“ **EYYY, ONEE-CHAN!** ” Futaba was calling from upstairs. “ **WHAT GIVES? WHERE YOU AT?!** ”  
  
Sojiro rubbed at some dust under her eye and chuckled softly.  
  
“Better heed the call before it gets even louder,” he mused. “I'll make you two something to drink and bring it up shortly.”  
  
In fact, Haru had been meaning to make exactly such a request since she'd entered the place, but had been sidetracked.  
  
“I'd be very grateful for that, Sakura-San,” she said with a courteous bow – not  _ too  _ low, but low enough.   


Making her way upstairs, Haru was greeted by the strangely nostalgic and comforting scent of...a musty, dusty attic. Her nose wrinkled as her heart fluttered. She couldn't even recall the last time she'd been up here...  
  
A small heater was set up in the middle of the room, burning its neon orange glow as it radiated waves through the chilled room.  
  
Futaba was hunched over in an old wooden chair, a second one pulled up beside her. Futaba had draped her coat over the back of the chair she occupied, revealing a long-sleeved sweatshirt with some kind of cartoony yellow dog on it, dressed up like a secretary. She was focused on the old, cube-shaped television before her, its glow reflecting in her eyeglasses as she bit her lip, mashing at her old-fashioned video game controller. Ah, well, technically, it was  _Ren's_ old-fashioned video game device, wasn't it?  
  
“Mm,” Futaba hummed, only partly giving Haru her attention. “Gimme a sec. Gotta finish this level...”  
  
With a soft chuckle through her nose, Haru smiled a bit, recalling a time when she'd seen Ren and Futaba side by side at that television with that same look about them.  
  
“It's fine,” Haru assured, taking a moment to wander across Amamiya-San's old living quarters. A poster of some...musician? It didn't really look like his thing, though. A dusty t-shirt hanging from his work bench. She'd never seen him wear it, nor had she ever seen him actually  _use_ that tool bench, but she recalled signs of its use now and again. Currently, however, the bench had...all manner of boards, wires, circuit...things? Haru wasn't familiar with the proper words for specific items, but she knew it was some computer project Futaba was tinkering with. It made her glad to see her making use of what Ren had left behind.  
  
Speaking of which, that tall shelf...It was full of all manner of trinkets Ren had accumulated during his year with them. Still there, still sitting, waiting. On the one hand, Haru was confused as to why Ren wouldn't want to take these many artifacts with him. On the other hand, the room would be quite barren without them, wouldn't it?  
  
Ah, the good-luck charm she'd given him still sat at the top center of the shelf. It looked a bit in need of cleaning, unfortunately...Oh, and that spatula she'd given him! Hm. And what was this? A wooden shogi piece...Haru didn't remember it being there before, but then again, she had no association with shogi in the past to connect to it. And now she did, being well acquainted with the person she knew had given the item to Ren.  
  
Maybe for Amamiya-San, all of these objects would be reminders of a life he once but could not recapture? In that regard, she could perhaps understand why he'd leave it all here. In any case, it made the room feel welcoming. An appropriate hang-out spot for the increasingly rare circumstances when the group might reconvene.

 

“ **Boom!** Haha, take _that,_ ya bastard...” Futaba was flicking her wrists as a computerized tune jingled from the television.  
  
“Oh, did you win?” Haru checked, taking her seat at Futaba's side.  
  
“Hell yea,” Futaba boasted. “Been tryin' to beat that fucker for _days_ now, n'-...O-oh, erh...-” Futaba grinned nervously, scratching a finger behind her ear. Haru felt her eyes practically pop open at the sound of such a word escaping her dear Imouto-Chan's mouth. “S-Sorry, I, um-...The crowd I roll with, lately, guess that I, erh...-” She shrugged, her face running pink with embarrassment as she trailed off.  
  
Haru giggled with some surprise.  
  
“They say we become who we spend time with,” she mused. “I don't judge you, but...I do appreciate the censorship. That sort of language still...bothers me to hear.”  
  
“ _Augh,_ sorry,” Futaba repeated with some self-defeat. Making a zipper-like gesture near her mouth across tight lips, she nodded, then explained, “Gotta remember to keep the swears to a minimum when Onee-Chan's around.”  
  
Haru smirked, facetiously noting, “Please do. You wouldn't want to cause damage to my innocent ears with your _impurities_ , would you?”  
  
She could tell Futaba wasn't sure if she was joking or not, and couldn't help but laugh at the blank, uncertain stare she received. Her laughter smoothed Futaba over, eliciting a small, nervous chuckle.  
  
“So, then,” said Haru, “Did you invite me here to...play a game? Or...-?”  
  
“ _Oh!_ ” Futaba fumbled with her controller, sliding it back into its designated spot at the gaming device's side. “Actually, I, uh, found a movie I thought we might like...-” She began sifting through the pile of...assorted items spread out across the old couch. She'd been treating this place like a second room, hadn't she?  
  
Futaba pulled out a generic looking case with a flourish and a “Da-da-da- **dahhhh** ~”  
  
Haru squinted to read the title, scribbled in plain text with a marker.  
  
She read aloud, “Evil Bear 2: Bearly Alive.” That sounded familiar... “Wait. Futaba-Chan, didn't we already _see_ this movie?”  
  
Pushing her glasses up over the bridge of her nose with a sadistic smirk, Futaba bragged, “That was the _remake._ I managed to find a copy of the _original._ No fake-looking CGI! In this cut, you actually see Evil Bear _eat the hermit's leg!_ ”  
  
“O-Oh, _my_ ,” Haru said, her chest fluttering. She wouldn't be able to _watch_ that part...probably. Then again, all of her time watching horror movies with Futaba, and having Futaba explain the effects, it was oddly fascinating, on top of Haru's already intrinsic appreciation of the genre.  
  
“Had to, uh, go through a couple hoops to, erh, convert it to DVD, here, but...-” Futaba started up the player and place the disc inside – said disc looked incredibly...not official...  
  
“Before we begin, I must ask: do you...actually own a copy of this film, Imouto-Chan?”  
  
“ _Whaaaaat_ of course I do whaddya mean I just um it's VHS 'cause they never released it on DVD and I mean _who even has a working VCR these days_ rite haha so I got my buddy to copy it over for me and-”  
  
Futaba sucked in a breath, finally slamming the brakes on her overly hasty ramble.  
  
“So...-” Haru sought clarification with a glint in her eye, and a pleasant smile on her face. “You _did_ acquire a legal copy of this film?”  
  
“I-I did, yea, I promise,” Futaba hastily insisted, nodding emphatically.  
  
“All right, then,” said Haru, content enough with this reply. It was the principle of the matter. Someone had to steer Futaba away from stealing things, even if they _were_ digital. Stealing hearts was one thing, but stealing products was another. Haru couldn't help suspecting that her Imouto-Chan _did_ still steal some things over the Internet...but if she was stealing _less_ things, than at least Haru was doing her job.  
  
>>>>>>>  
  
[ Futaba-Chan seems to have kept your old room lived in while you've been away. Amazingly, she managed to fix the old television and disc player. I believe she even repaired your gaming device, since it broke at some point. She's made so many friends in Akihabara, you know, so they've helped her with repairing or replacing parts. Weren't you the one who got her to feel comfortable going there in the first place? Regardless, all of your old items are still here, though they could do with some cleaning. The devices still work. Futaba-Chan says she even spends the night at Le Blanc sometimes. I get the feeling she feels more connected to you when she is here. I feel I am, too. It will quite nice, however, when all of us can sit in that place once again, together. ]  
  
<<<<<<<

 


	2. Chapter 2

<<<<<<<  
  
[ “You're...eating my...leg!” ]  
[ “Oh!” ]  
[ “ **HAHAHA** ” ]  
  
“Evil Bear,  _why_ you so evil?” Futaba said with a snarky shake of her head.  
  
Haru was conversely quite speechless at the sight. The effects looked fairly authentic! It was indeed quite unsettling!  
  
She realized that her arm had found its way latched against Futaba's bicep in her surge of alarm, and she loosened her grip, slowing her breath.  
  
Horror movies were almost like roller-coasters for the mind. Perhaps not unlike the thrill of the metaverse, Haru appreciated a bout of excitement now and again. Just...as long as she wasn't alone...  
  
Haru felt her lungs seize up when something  _grabbed at her hip,_ clawing with a-...  
  
_-rrrrmmmmmm!-  
  
_ O-Oh, ha, it was only her phone...  
  
Ah. A text from her driver. It was time to take off.  
  
“Oh, is it that time already?” Haru lamented.  
  
“Enh?” Futaba grunted, pausing the film.  
  
“I have to get going for now,” said Haru. “I have other things to tend to for the evening...”  
  
“Oh, right! Yea, no worries. Sorry I forgot.”  
  
“No, I forgot, as well. We-...Um, we should finish this movie soon. Maybe tomorrow?”  
  
“Totally! I might be out but send me a text and I'll come around.”  
  
Haru rose from the rickety wooden chair, and it squeaked with relief, its burden lifted. Futaba pounced up on her heels and shoved herself into Haru for a good-bye hug.  
  
“ _Mmmmph!_ ” Futaba groaned, her usual combination of  _'it's good seeing you'_ and  _'it's a shame you're leaving.'_   
  
Haru returned the hug, murmuring a placation of “We still have the whole weekend ahead of us.”  
  
“I know,” Futaba conceded. “I just-...Y-Yea, everyone's been too busy lately, and...with Makoto avoiding me ever since I...-” She whimpered a small, pathetic whimper. “W-Well, yea, I just-...” Tidying her posture back up and breaking their hug, she concluded, “The  _point is,_ I am  _excite_ to have you around, buuut I know you gotta go 'adult,' so...-” Her eyes popped wide in a moment of realization. “Not to  _mention,_ your little... _impending encounter_ ?  _Ehhh?_ ”  
  
As Futaba elbowed her in the rib, Haru tilted her head back, rolling her eyes as her cheeks began to sizzle.  
  
“Y-Yes, well, I do...have matters to attend to, so...-”  
  
“You better make  _lotsa_ mental notes, Sis, I wanna know  _all_ about how it goes!”  
  
“I am  _certain_ you do...” Haru said with her eyelids half closed and a sheepish smile on her face.  
  
Futaba beamed a shining grin at Haru, who felt oddly smaller than she usually did in the moment.  
  
When it seemed she couldn't contain her vicarious excitement any longer, Futaba burst out a quick, “Ok-OK-okay, don't let me keep ya.”  
  
“Thank you. I...-” Haru noticed the empty coffee cups on their saucers on the floor.  
  
“Nuh-nuh-nuh,  _I got it_ ,” Futaba insisted, gently shoving Haru toward the stairs. Very quietly, Futaba said,  “You've got places to be,  _people to do_ ...-”   
  
With a sharp, defensive gasp at Futaba's  _boldly inaccurate_ statement, Haru playfully smacked Futaba on the arm with the back of her wrist.  
  
Giggling like school children, the pair of them fumbled their way down the stairs.  
  
“Uh-oh,” came a familiar woman's voice from the café counter. “I  _thought_ I heard the sound of miscreants up to no good...”  
  
“Your ears do not deceive you,” Sojiro jokingly remarked, wiping the counter-top with a spray bottle and rag in hand.  
  
Sitting at the counter with a plate of curry and a cup of coffee sat Chief Inspector Niijima! Her hair was...much shorter than the last time Haru had seen her a few weeks back.  
  
“Oh, hey, Sae-San!” said Futaba, ever informal...  
  
“Hello to you, too, Futaba,” Sae replied, appearing to be as amused as Haru was by the lack of social etiquette. “And  _hello,_ Ma'am,” she said, nodding her head at Haru, who smiled back and bowed slightly.  
  
“Good afternoon, Niijima-San,” said Haru, at least using the woman's surname. She knew Sae seemed to prefer more neutral titles amongst the company of this lot, and part of why she visited Le Blanc with regularity was the comfort she found there. “You, um...-” Haru found her throat catching a bit as she was distracted by how fashionable the woman's clean-cut hairstyle was. Almost masculine, even. It caught her off-guard. “You cut your hair,” Haru noted plainly, dumbly, eyes wide. She could practically feel said eyes glittering with admiration.  
  
“I  _did_ ,” Sae said with a warm, unceremonious tone as she sipped at her coffee.  
  
“Looks pretty baller, doesn't she?” said Futaba, using a term Haru didn't quite get the context of. It certainly sounded like a compliment, at least, with the way Futaba had said it.  
  
Sae seemed to recognize the term, and laughed, nearly spewing coffee from her nose.  
  
Clearing her throat, Sae responded, “ _Uhm-..._ Well. I was aiming more for 'practical and professional,' but...-”  
  
Haru thrust out the compliment hanging at the edges of her cheeks since they'd made eye contact.  
“It looks very nice on you.”  
  
“Thank you,” Sae replied pleasantly. She carried as if she made nothing of it but Haru was certain Sae's hairdo was in fact related with a recent conversation the pair of them had shared. Haru had encouraged Sae-San to try something new when she'd tossed out the idea of changing styles. It was warming to see that her advice had contributed to something as stunning as-...Er, that is-...Regardless! Um.  
  
“H-How are you doing?” Haru asked.  
  
Niijima-San nodded, her mouth full of curry, and shrugged. After swallowing, she managed to reply, “I've been better, but I've certainly been worse...”  
  
>>>>>>>  
  
[ Sae Niijima has been coming to Le Blanc more and more lately, I'm told. I even ran into her when I was there earlier. Apparently she and Sojiro have become fast friends now that Sae has time to spare. You might recall her efforts to clean up the corrupt components of the police force in the area, but evidently she finally reached a point this autumn where she feels sufficiently satisfied with said efforts and has been taking some time off. It's difficult to explain, but she carries herself a bit differently than you might recall. I hope you're able to catch up with her when you visit, as I'm sure she would like to know what you've been up to. When you're brought up in conversation, I can tell she still harbors some guilt over the circumstances you had to deal with. She did her best, but you know Sae-San – her best isn't good enough if it does not reach perfection. While I think she has finally started to overcome that lofty and self-defeating expectation with regards to her work, I still get the impression the feeling lingers with regard to her connections. Maybe this is why she's been coming to Le Blanc so much, connecting with Sojiro and Futaba in what ways she can. ]  
  
[ After all, it's not as though Makoto has been terribly responsive lately. ]  
  
<<<<<<<  
  
“Ah,” said Haru, watching as Sojiro pulled Futaba aside to help him clean some dirty dishes. “Is there anything I can do to help guide that sentiment closer toward the 'better' side of the spectrum?”  
  
“ _Hah,_ that's very sweet of you, Ma'am,” said Sae with a bemused smile, “but I'll manage.”  
  
“I, um...-” Haru closed the distance between them, setting a cautious hand on the woman's shoulder. She quietly said into Sae's ear, “I apologize if my...assertion made things worse...”  
  
“What, with Makoto?” Sae balked, tilting herself back slightly. “ _Pff._ ” She flicked a dismissive wrist. “No, Okumura-San, that's not on you. You were trying to help, and I appreciate it.  _I'm_ her sister, it's  _my_ responsibility. But I just...-” She paused, running her hand across her scalp with a defeated sigh. “How am I  _supp_ -...” Her voice caught on an unpleasantly high syllable and she coughed, blinking her eye. She tried again. “How am I supposed to know how to get  _through_ to her when I feel like I don't even  _know_ her anymore?”  
  
“Surely she sometimes wonders the same thing,” Haru posed. “I know things are...in a difficult place between you two at the moment, and believe me, you aren't alone in this regard with your sister.”  
  
“At least she  _responds_ to you,” Sae bitterly pointed out.  
  
“O-Oh, only barely,” Haru insisted. “And likely, even then, due to how persistent I've become...”  
  
Sae chewed on some curry, taking in a deep breath.  
  
“-...not  _my_ fault for being honest,” Futaba was growling at Sojiro in the background. They were both being very hush-hush.  
  
Haru didn't want to assume things, but she was confident that something related to Makoto was being discussed. Suffice it to say that...Futaba had made Makoto rather uncomfortable the last time they had met up. Whatever had happened – and Haru was not seeking the details – it had sent some ripples throughout Makoto's social life. The woman had been rather busy with her education and training as it was, but whatever had been going on between her and Futaba seemed to escalate Makoto's career pursuits to a level that all but shut out her past associations with the Phantom Thieves.  
  
Non-personal matters aside, Haru could at least appreciate what an issue it could be if someone aiming to become a Chief of Police was discovered to have such intimate criminal associations in her past as being a member of the Phantom Thieves.  
  
Self-defense or not, though, Haru was not in support of Makoto's starkly anti-social approach.  
  
“You said it  _yourself,_ Sojiro,” Futaba was grumbling, “I can't control how I feel, only how I  _act._ Well? Maybe  _Makoto_ needs to learn how to control how  _she_ acts, too...”  
  
“That isn't the  _point,_ Futaba. You can't simply  _drop_ that sort of...-”  
  
“ _Um_ ,” Haru said, loudly clearing her throat to maintain momentum in their own discussion. “That is to say, Sae-San, that I'm certain Mako-Chan will come around when the time is right.”  
  
“I sure hope so,” Sae mumbled, staring into her coffee as she lifted the cup to her lips. “At this point, I just don't know what will help...”  
  
Once again trying to avoid acting on speculation, Haru simply nodded, her gut tipping her off that  _something_ ill had transpired between the two sisters recently. Sae seemed noticeably shaken. Distraught. Like the calm demeanor she'd put on when they'd come downstairs was sewn into the suit she was wearing.  
  
_-rrrrrrmmmm!_ -  
  
Haru's driver buzzing to make sure she was still coming.  
  
Haru made an impulse decision in that moment. Extending an arm, she pressed her palm cautiously against Sae-San's back. The woman's suit was elegant to the touch, but slightly worn from heavy use.  
  
“You still have my number, don't you?” Haru checked.  
  
Sae nodded, seemingly confused.  
  
“I have to leave – someone's waiting on me – but please, Niijima-San, if there's anything I can do to help, will you let me know?”  
  
“I...-” Sae seemed taken aback by the gesture.  
  
“I promise to not meddle directly, but surely someone in your position needs time to recuperate? I could arrange...a masseuse for you? Recommend you to a therapist? Or-...Or even just invite you to coffee at my shop, my treat. Anything you think will help.”  
  
Her brows lowered as she glanced back over her shoulder. Sae seemed to stoically freeze up, but she nodded.  
  
“Thanks, Okumura,” she sighed. “I...will consider the offer.”  
  
“Please do, Ma'am. You have a good evening, now.”  
  
“And you, as well.”  
  
Heading for the door, Haru quickly texted her driver to advise him that she was heading out presently.  
  
“Knock 'em dead, Onee-Chan!” Futaba cheered from the dish sink.  
  
“I'll be back tomorrow,” Haru called back. “Take care Sakura-San, Imouto-Chan. Have a good evening!”  
  
“G'night.”  
“See ya!”  
“Farewell.”  
  
Scooping up her umbrella, Haru headed out the door – that wonderful little bell bid her 'good-bye' along with everyone else.  
  
Traversing the rain-soaked back street, Haru made firm, solid strides across the cobblestone, splashing a little rainwater with each step.  
  
As she walked, she realized that during her time with Futaba, she'd gotten a text message reply from Ann.  
  
[ WOW are you serious?? GOOD FOR YOU! ]-  
[ This is a big step, isn't it? Don't be afraid. ]-  
[ As for advice? Honestly, just don't overthink it. ]-  
[ Well OK I mean based on what you've told me, maybe overthinking could be good ]-  
[ but more in the way of, like, details. You know? ]-  
[ But really, Haru, I think you've already got that one down. ]-  
[ The most important thing is to just be yourself. ]-  
[ If it doesn't click, it doesn't click. ]-  
[ But my professional opinion? ]-  
[ You two already HAVE clicked. It totally sounds like there's some kind of chemistry going on. ]-  
[ To be fair, that doesn't mean much in the long run... ]-  
[ But from the sounds of it, you both have good heads on your shoulders. ]-  
[ Unwind, order something you  _like,_ not something you think will look appropriate. ]-  
[ As for your worries about how to dress, it's too early to focus on that. ]-  
[ I know that technically you're probably expecting me to put on my work face for this one, but ]-  
[ you're not one of hundreds of random comments online. ]-  
[ You're Haru Okumura. You've got this. ]-  
[ Just dress comfortably. That's your main objective, here. ]-  
[ Be yourself, be comfortable. ]-  
[ You want to project who you really are, outside of your working relationship, you know? ]-  
[ The whole point of this is to kind of see HOW your dynamic changes, but seriously? ]-  
[ Ideally speaking, it actually shouldn't change much, if you really connect. ]-  
[ What changes when you start dating someone, formally, is more about the 'what' than anything else. ]-  
[ How you relate, how you enjoy company, how you process things, ]-  
[ how you resolve problems, I mean, ]-  
[ really, all of that should basically be the same as long as you're both on the same page. ]-  
[ I mean, I guess I'm saying all of this because of the remark when you said ]-  
[ “It's almost like we're playing a game” ]-  
[ At first that was a huge red flag but when you explained it? ]-  
[ I think I get it now. ]-  
[ Just keep in mind what kind of 'game' that is, who is meant to 'win' or 'lose' ]-  
[ (ideally, you BOTH win? That's a thing) ]-  
[ And as long as you both can stop playing when you need to, I can totally get the appeal. ]-  
  
>>>>>>>  
  
[ Ann has been thriving despite adversity. I think you are aware she gave up on modeling, correct? But did you know she's still attached to the industry? She's writing for a fashion blog now, apparently, and does freelance work. That field is outside of my personal interests, I admit, so I cannot recall the name of any website she writes for. As I understand it, she creates content online, and has even started a video channel that has gained a fast following. It's funny how small the world is – a couple of weeks ago I was wanting assistance with my makeup for a business event, so I decided to look up a tutorial, and one of her videos showed up! Ann is always bringing up her work every time I correspond with her. I truly think she has found her passion, and it brings me joy to listen to her rant about things she feels so strongly about. It reminds me of the kind of social change we used to talk about and work toward, you know? She and Shiho have been striving to help students escape circumstances like the ones they endured. ]  
  
<<<<<<<  
  
[ Anyway just ]-  
[ UGHHH ]-  
[ I CAN'T ]-  
[ I'm so EXCITED for you!!! ]-  
[ I'll be on standby if any emergency comes up, OK? ]-  
  
Having reaching her car and advised her driver of their next destination, Haru replied to Ann,  
-[ You're right! ]  
-[ Your words are exactly what I've been needing to hear. ]  
-[ I've been worrying so much about how this will change things between us... ]  
-[ It's relieving to see you say that they don't have to. ]  
-[ I've not really thought of it in that way before, but when I am with ]  
  
She paused. She deleted the next word she'd typed, and entered a different word.  
-[ but when I am with them, that 'game' I mentioned it feels we play, ]  
-[ it's not just literal, and it goes beyond the metaphor. ]  
-[ I think it's our way of...how did you put it? ]  
-[ “Coding our behavior.” ]  
-[ I believe we've both been conditioned to be cautious about these things. ]  
-[ And I know that, ultimately, for this to truly thrive, ]  
-[ that caution will have to be thrown to the wind. ]  
-[ We're not ready for that yet. ]  
-[ But your advice is most certainly helpful and I will keep those things in mind. ]  
-[ Thank you, Ann, I will keep you updated. ]  
  
[ You got this, Haru! ]-  
[ Don't let inexperience hold you back. ]-  
[ It's not about who knows more, who's done more, none of that. ]-  
[ It's about who you ARE, what you WANT, and whether those things are compatible. ]-  
[ I'd wish you luck but you don't need it! ]-  
  
>>>>>>>  
  
[ I've even come to Ann for advice in ways I never would've expected. A lot has changed for her, but perhaps that would be better for her to explain to you herself. ]  
  
<<<<<<<  
  
Feeling some relief at her friend's unwavering and even actively enthusiastic support, Haru found herself with some time to spare in the car ride to Café Noire. Given her recent encounter with Sae-San, she felt compelled to try, even though she hadn't heard back the past two times...  
  
She sent a text message to Makoto.  
  
-[ Hello, I hope you're doing all right. ]  
-[ I'm sorry if something I've said upset you. ]  
-[ I was only trying to help. ]  
-[ I see now that attempt was unwelcome and I apologize. ]  
-[ I won't bother you about such matters any more. I promise. ]  
-[ Please tell me how I can help you. ]  
-[ How I can be whatever kind of friend you need. ]  
  
Mere minutes later, Haru was caught off guard by an actual response from Makoto.  
  
[ I'm fine. ]-  
[ And I'll continue to be fine as long as everyone stops trying to micromanage me. ]-  
[ You and my sister just bumped into each other, didn't you? ]-  
  
Hm. Much more defensive than Haru had been hoping. And leave it to Mako-Chan to be as perceptive as ever.  
  
-[ I see. Again, I apologize, it wasn't my intention to make you feel that way. ]  
-[ Please, Makoto, let me know how I can help you. ]  
-[ Yes, actually, we did. How did you know? ]  
  
Haru drummed her fingers in her lap for a few moments until the responses started coming in.  
  
[ It's my job to figure that kind of thing out. ]-  
[ At least I seem to be able to handle that much. ]-  
[ Why do you keep acting like I need your help? ]-  
[ I never asked for it. I don't need it. I don't want it. ]-  
[ And I definitely don't appreciate you gossiping about me behind my back to my sister. ]-  
[ I don't know what you can do to help. ]-  
[ Leave me alone, maybe? ]-  
[ Give me space. ]-  
  
>>>>>>>  
  
[ Mako-Chan...has been almost as distant as you. I actually see her sister more frequently than I do her as of late. I don't mind, in one sense – I've come to appreciate Sae-San's company more than anticipated, after all. But much like you, I worry about Makoto. She seems to have gone in the opposite direction you have, Amamiya-San. I fear she is piling on too much work, too much responsibility, and without leaning on those of us who care about her, I can't help worrying the weight will collapse on her some day, as it did you. Sae-san shares this concern, and we've even been pooling our efforts somewhat to try and help, but...our effectiveness seems to be lacking. In my personal opinion, I think Makoto's primary problem is that she is burying herself with busywork but lacks...purpose. And I know, yes, her goals are clear and concise, aren't they? She wants to become Police Chief. It is very specific. And I'm sure it's for the intent of doing good. But I have difficulty picking up a true sense of purpose from it. As if she is pursuing this just to pursue it. To prove her worth, her talent, her ethic. This isn't by itself such a bad thing. But with how much work she inundates herself with, I cannot help but wonder if she will look back at these years some day and regret not spending more time with her loved ones. She has such lofty goals in the long term, but in the short term, what is her means to get there? By being alone and stubborn? ]  
  
<<<<<<<  
  
To Makoto's request, Haru warily responded,  
-[ Very well, Niijima-San. ]  
-[ Let me know if I can be of any help, should something arise. ]  
-[ Anything. ]  
-[ Please take care. ]  
  
>>>>>>>  
  
[ My, I suppose I may be coming across as judgmental. Look at me, having been given such privilege to pursue whatever I might desire, casting judgment on someone who is determined to work hard to earn the same. I suppose part of this may stem from having lost my father, while seeing Sae-San lamenting her sibling's disconnection so much. Maybe I'm also projecting some of this onto you regarding my comments on Futaba-Chan. ]  
  
<<<<<<<  
  
Haru sighed with some dejection at the response she'd received.  
  
[ Give me space. ]-  
  
It felt as if this was the  _only_ thing Haru could offer Makoto, time and again. It was to the point where their relationship was more 'space' than anything  _else._ And facing this, how could she define such a relationship?  
  
Before Haru could get too bogged down by the situation, she noticed that Café Noire was in sight. Ah, and there was a familiar yellow truck parked in the back. After their car pulled in around the back end, Haru could see that the truck's driver, dressed in a raincoat, was standing inside the truck's carrier compartment, loading items onto a pull-cart.  
  
Their eyes met and he grinned widely, tossing out a friendly wave.  


>>>>>>>  
  
[ Ryuji has been staying very busy! I actually see him quite regularly, though our interactions are ever brief. He's become a courier, and delivers supplies to my café every week. I confess I never have much time to catch up with him for very long, so I'm not quite sure what is going on in his personal life. But I can tell he is happy. His informal but friendly demeanor seems like a good fit for his line of work. I try to avoid bringing you up, however, as I think the distance you've put from us seems to have hit him the hardest. I might sound like a broken record today but you should seriously consider reconnecting with him when you come back to town. I've ensured that he's been made aware that you'll be visiting, but it might be good for him to hear this from you personally, and arrange plans to see each other. ]  
  


<<<<<<<  
  
After advising her driver of her next needed appointment and getting out of her car, Haru carefully approached the truck under the safety of her umbrella.  
  
“Careful, there,” Ryuji advised her as he watched her delicately stride up the metal ramp to the truck's interior. “Wouldn't wanna take a spill out here, it's-”  
  
 _Oh-!_  
  
Haru's shoes were not exactly designed for this kind of environment, and she slipped a little. Before she knew it, Ryuji had grabbed her extended arm, keeping her steady.  
  
“Gotcha.”  
  
“Thank you,” Haru sighed with some relief, regaining her footing on the solid, mostly dry floor of the truck. “Apologies, I...have been taking more risks lately...”  
  
Giving her a casual slap on the shoulder, Ryuji went back to loading up boxes onto the cart.  
  
“Hey, nothin' wrong with that. That sorta approach is the whole reason this place here _exists,_ right?”  
  
“Hm?” _He means the café._ “Oh, yes! I suppose that _is_ right, isn't it?”  
  
Ryuji reached for a clipboard, flipping a few sheets over. “Missed ya last week – figured you wouldn't show up today, either, with _this_ weather.” He handed the clipboard over to her.  
  
She took it and began reviewing the order, her mind quickly wandering.  
  
“Oh, no, I'm enjoying the rain quite a lot, actually.”  
  
“Even though ya almost face-planted because of it?” Ryuji teased.  
  
She grabbed the pen on a string attached to the board and signed the delivery slip.  
  
“Ha, that was hardly the rain's fault so much as mine for being careless.”  
  
Ryuji acknowledged, “Heh, fair point.” He accepted the signed form, tearing off Haru's copy. “So, how ya been, anyway?”  
  
“I've been well,” Haru replied. “Busier than anticipated, however.”  
  
“Ah, man, I _hear_ ya. Things have really picked up earlier this year. They've got me runnin' all over the place.” He nodded slowly, scratching his scalp beneath his raincoat hood. “On the upside, I've been to some _damn_ good restaurants this month. Just when I think a dish can't get any better, somebody up 'n surprises me, ya know?”  
  
Haru nodded and smiled, imagining Ryuji's enthusiasm and joy being spread to different establishments.  
  
Ryuji was cautiously moving the push cart of supplies down the ramp, and Haru followed, offering, “Shall I assist you?”  
  
“Heh, nah, I got it, thanks. Gotta earn my keep!” He shivered a bit under the chill of the rainfall, scampering the cart over to the back entrance.  
  
After carefully walking down the ramp, Haru rushed to the door to open it for him. As he struggled in the rain a little, Haru couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt at the notion of 'earning one's keep.' Had Haru done as such? It seemed she was constantly scrambling to try and 'earn' some abstract 'keep,' some semblance of comfort that where she was, what she had access to, was 'just.' The best she could do was spend the time she didn't _need_ to spend earning a living giving back to those who did, was the way she saw it.  
  
The pair entered the shop, and Ryuji wheeled the cart into the supply room.  
  
“Oh, there you are,” came an employee, who swiftly struck up a brief chat with Ryuji.  
  
Haru took the opportunity to head to the store floor. She was greeted by some employees and customers alike, but stayed behind the counter to quickly put together a hot beverage with extra cream. Carrying it carefully back to the supply room, she found Ryuji dusting his hands off over an empty cart, and an employee beginning to set goods into their proper places.  
  
Pulling out the folded, dampened copy of her order slip from his coat, Ryuji handed the sheet to Haru, who gently placed it on the stack of boxes, and exchanged said sheet for the hot cup she had just brewed.  
  
“Eh? This for me?” Ryuji seemed a bit surprised.  
  
“It's cold out today, Sakamoto-San,” Haru insisted, nudged the cup into his hands.  
  
“ _That's_ the truth,” Ryuji conceded. Sniffing at the cup, he mumbled, “So, uh, what's in here, anyway?”  
  
She knew he wasn't much of a coffee drinker but hoped he would give her drink a chance, at least.  
  
“That's a light roast mocaccino with a touch of raspberry flavor, cinnamon, and some extra cream.”  
  
Ryuji smirked and laughed a little through his nose.  
  
“Dunno what to expect, but, uh, thanks, Haru.”  
  
Out of the corner of her eye, Haru could see her employee almost bug-eye at Ryuji's informality. It was uncommon for the employees to see her interacting with him directly.  
  
“You're very welcome, Ryuji,” she replied with a warm smile and a nod. “I hope it helps keep you warm.”  
  
He tried to sip at it, flinched a bit, to which Haru warily advised, “P-Perhaps give it some time to cool down first...”  
  
Smacking his tongue with a wrinkled expression, Ryuji nodded.  
  
“So, uh...-” He shook off the bitter sip, asking, “You heard from Ren lately? Ain't he supposed to be showin' up soon?”  
  
“Oh, um...-” Haru was a bit taken aback by this sudden topic change. Fussing with her hair prudently (the humidity was beginning to take its toll), she nodded, mumbling, “He... _is_ planning to visit. In a week or two, I believe. I-...To be honest, I haven't heard back from him in some time...”  
  
“Man.” Ryuji shook his head slightly, a forlorn look about him. “Even giving _you_ a bit of the cold shoulder, huh?”  
  
“Oh, it-...I'm sure it's not quite like that, he...-”  
  
“Somethin' ain't right,” Ryuji muttered, his brows lowering. “Dunno how to explain it, but I just... _know_ it, somehow.”  
  
Haru swapped looks with him. They both shared a certain glazed over concern in their eyes.  
  
“We...don't _know_ that something is amiss,” Haru raised, “And yet, I cannot help but agree with you...”  
  
Drumming his fingers along his paper coffee cup, Ryuji sighed and shrugged.  
  
“Well. Not like we can do much about it right _now,_ yea?” He grabbed his pushcart with one hand and started the trek back to his truck. “That guy'll be around soon enough, hopefully we can squeeze some truth outta him.”  
  
“Ryuji-San,” Haru called to him as he exited the supply room. Following him into the hall, he watched him slow down at the door leading outside.  
  
“Yea?” he called back curiously.  
  
“Um...-” Haru crossed her arms over her chest and nodded thoughtfully with self-affirmation. “I'm sorry that Amamiya-San has...been so distant. I promise I'll do what I can to help.”  
  
Ryuji was slightly flabbergasted at first, but after a moment, he smiled with gratitude.  
  
“Oh, yea? Me, too.” He raised his cup to her with a, “Yo, thanks for the drink. Catch you later,” and used his shoulder to push out the back door and into the rain.  
  
“You and him must go back,” commented Haru's employee. “Huh?”  
  
“We do,” Haru confirmed with a nod as a warm, nostalgic glow washed over her. “Well. I'll leave you to this,” she said, patting the palette Ryuji had dropped off before bidding the employee farewell and heading out for the store floor.  
  
Haru considered whipping up another drink for her impending meeting, only to realize that her guest likely already _had_ a drink handy if she wanted one. That was just the sort of person she was.  
  
After checking in with her employees on the shop floor to ensure everything was running smoothly, Haru caught sight of her appointed guest, huddled up in their usual spot in the back corner of the café. She was perched, back straight, one leg crossed primly over the other from beneath a long, pleated skirt of black, highlighting the dark, star-printed stockings she adorned. She was dressed in a white blouse with a silver neck tie, and a black vest, unbuttoned, to match her skirt. The vest had the insignia of her player brand stitched in silver thread over the left breast pocket – a pair of stars, interlinked, with her name etched into the opposing pocket in.

  
**{** **東郷** **}  
{ ** **一二三** **}**

  
She was resting at a two-seated couch by the shop's courtesy book shelf, playing a practice round of Shogi by herself.  
  
Haru was momentarily stunned during her approach when the woman's elegant face turned up to look at her, their eyes crossing paths and locking into place. The woman smiled slightly, the gloss on her lips glinting to match the spark in her sly eyes, and Haru felt a splash of heat wash over her from top to bottom, leaving her cheeks glowing for a few seconds.  
  
She hurriedly crossed the distance to the couch and seated herself without incident, avoiding her friend's smirking glance as she felt her chest inflate with an excitement she was still getting acquainted with.  
  
“Good afternoon, Okumura-San.”  
  
“Mm.” Haru nodded from the woman's side, swallowing the bashful lump in her throat. “And...to you, as well, Togo-San.”  
  
The pair sat together on the couch for a few seconds, a silent bubble of churning heat adrift in a calming lake of tea cups, spoons, coffee beans, and idle chatter.  
  
Hifumi began resetting the Shogi board. As she leaned over to do so, her legs repositioned themselves in such a way that her left leg brushed up against Haru's right, lingering. Haru's breath involuntarily held itself during these few seconds, the brief contact altogether more harrowing than she thought it should've felt.  
  
She could hear a soft chuckle escape Hifumi's nose as the woman realigned herself, one knee hooking over the opposite knee. Folding her hands together overtop intersecting knees, she tilted her head slightly, and Haru marveled at the way her long, straight locks of black shifted and fell like an ebony waterfall in a poetic painting.  
  
“You're early,” Hifumi noted, startling Haru from her staring. “Would you care to play a game while we wait?”  
  
>>>>>>>

  
[ You might recall that I mentioned I'd met with a mutual acquaintance who has become a regular at my shop. Hifumi Togo – the Shogi player you helped back when you lived here. Not only has she been doubling down on her pursuit of professional Shogi, she's also collaborated with Ann in some modeling for Ann's publication, and even works part-time at a book store where she helps keep things organized. It may come as a surprise, but we've actually been spending quite a lot of time together in recent weeks. She initially came to Noire for my coffee and tea, but by this point I'm rather convinced she appreciates my company in and of itself. And the feeling is reciprocated, I will admit. ]  
  
<<<<<<<  
  
Haru fumbled her way through a game of Shogi, losing spectacularly within five minutes. She could already see the move Hifumi would take to seal a checkmate.  
  
“You seem distracted,” Hifumi teased, lowering her eyelids and raising her brows at Haru, lingering her hand over the piece that would end the game.  
  
“O-Oh, I'm sorry,” Haru chirped airily, her head swimming with possibilities, fears, and embarrassment. “I-...I, um...-” Fidgeting her hands in her lap, she shrugged, smiling bashfully.  
  
“I'm nervous, as well,” confessed Hifumi in a whisper, leaning her head cautiously over Haru's shoulder. “I might be good at hiding it, but...-” She shifted her fingers to a pawn piece, moving it forward in a seemingly directionless move, giving up her opportunity to win the round. “-...I suppose I'm used to putting on certain appearances.”  
  
>>>>>>>  
  
[ We've become much closer in a short few months than I ever would've anticipated when we first met. I suppose for you, that's commonplace. Or, well, it was, at least, wasn't it? But this is kind of new to me. It's exciting, in more ways than one. I'd like to talk with you about it in person. I know it's been a long time, so you might not remember, but were your interactions with Togo-San...almost like you were playing a game? Or maybe that doesn't make sense... ]  


 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (frick, I don't actually know how Shogi works but hopefully I didn't muck anything up)

>>>>>>>  
  
[ We've become much closer in a short few months than I ever would've anticipated when we first met. I suppose for you, that's commonplace. Or, well, it was, at least, wasn't it? But this is kind of new to me. It's exciting, in more ways than one. I'd like to talk with you about it in person. I know it's been a long time, so you might not remember, but were your interactions with Togo-San...almost like you were playing a game? Or maybe that doesn't make sense... ]  
  
<<<<<<<  
  
It was like Hifumi had intentionally set up Haru to take over the pawn piece, without any consequences.  
  
Haru took it.  
  
“Yes,” Haru acknowledge Hifumi's statement about appearances. “I suppose I've gotten used to it, as well, I just...-”  
  
But then Hifumi sideswiped her, using the cleared opening from the piece Haru had just moved to dive in and take away Haru's last Rook – and yet, still, no checkmate.  
  
Haru laughed quietly, shaking her head with a smile.  
  
Taking one of Hifumi's Knights, as if it were placed on a platter for her to take, Haru admitted with a wry grin, “I just seem to lose my guard around you.”  
  
Hifumi created another opening, taking Haru's last pawn but leaving her Queen wide open.  
  
Hifumi then quietly quipped, “Perhaps the best defense around me is a good offense...”  
  
Feeling Hifumi's intent stare against her pink cheeks, Haru tried to focus on the board.  
  
Haru mumbled sheepishly, “I will...keep that in mind,” before taking Hifumi's Queen with her last Knight.  
  
As Haru picked up the Queen piece from the board, however, Hifumi's hand intersected her path. Their fingers slid across each other's wrists and palms as Hifumi slowly scooped her Queen piece away.  
  
“Please do,” Hifumi concluded. With a glint in her eyes, she smiled, collecting the pieces up and ending their game prematurely. “I won't leave myself so open next time...”  
  
“O-Oh, I see,” Haru sputtered, sifting her nails across her side-bangs as she watched Hifumi tidy up the game.  
  
Taking one last gulp of her tea and finishing it up, Hifumi closed up the Shogi board – one she had donated to the café for public use – and set it upon the book shelf where it usually sat.  
  
“I think I'm ready to venture out, if you are,” Hifumi posed, referring to their designated date.  
  
“Ah, r-right, yes,” said Haru, popping up from the couch and suddenly fretting over her appearance.  
  
Haru collected the teacup and saucer Hifumi had just used, noting a trace of black lipstick hanging on its edges.  
  
“I can take care of that,” said Hifumi, reaching out her hands.  
  
“No, please, allow me,” Haru insisted, taking the chance to seek a moment of reprieve from the startlingly tense encounter. She set the chinaware in the designated clean-up area of the counter, then took a moment to steady herself, calm her breathing, and put her shaking hands into her pockets.  
  
Hifumi approached, having collected her coat to prepare for the rainy weather. Haru requested a moment to gather her own jacket, and advised Hifumi to meet her out front – she didn't want people to see Hifumi follow her into the back area, as that might be too conspicuous.  
  
As Haru went through the motions, she found herself errantly checking her e-mail on her management computer in her office – a minute or so was spent glazing her eyes over without actually reading any text, only to remind herself that she had to leave. Her mind was swirling in a tizzy. She had not anticipated feeling this queasy or light-headed. Leaving her reliable workers to maintain the store as usual, Haru gathered her coat and umbrella and called up her driver to confirm that they were ready.  
  
She had a text from Hifumi by the time she was done with this call.  
  
[ Is everything all right? ]-  
  
Haru replied,  
-[ Oh, yes, of course. ]  
-[ My apologies! I'm a bit scattered but our ride is on the way. ]  
  
Haru felt foolish. Like some child giddy at being asked to a school dance or some such. It was embarrassing! She had never quite felt this way before. Certainly, some semblance of this flustered sensation had come about around Amamiya-San back in the day, but it had never quite _struck_ her like this. She'd assumed this type of twitterpation was something she was simply _immune_ to, so to be getting seized so fiercely by it was confusing, annoying, and yet...exciting.  
  
Heading outside into the rain, but protected by the awning over the back door, Haru read a couple more messages she had received from the woman waiting just around the building.  
  
[ If you changed your mind, I'd understand. ]-  
[ I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. ]-  
  
Haru smiled dumbly, shaking her head with amusement.  
She answered.  
  
-[ Not at all! ]  
-[ I'm just more nervous than I thought. That's all. ]  
-[ You've done nothing wrong. We're still on. ]  
  
Seeing her driver pulling into the small back lot, Haru followed up,  
-[ Our ride is here, please come around back. ]  
  
Haru waved to her driver, approaching the car and waiting by a backseat door. As Hifumi emerged from the building's corner, carrying her own solid black umbrella, Haru wriggled her wrist inward, beckoning her guest. She opened the door, holding her umbrella aloft to allow Hifumi to close her own and enter un-drenched, and Haru felt her chest glow giddily as she circled round back, taking her own seat beside Hifumi's.  
  
After settling themselves in, the driver checked, “Is our destination still Shinjuku?”  
  
“ _Mm_!” Haru hummed out with a confidant nod, hands knotted together in her lap.  
  
Haru and Hifumi sat, side by side, faces forward, backs straight, tight-lipped. A few minutes passed. Their eyes met each other's now and then, but one glance would skirt away from the other upon contact. As they drove, enveloped in the heat of the car's ventilation system, the windows began to fog up against the cold condensation outside. As their driver took them onto a highway, Haru felt a gentle, adroit tap on her leg. Startled and suddenly self-aware of how warm her cheeks were, Haru's face spun to Hifumi.  
  
The woman was leaning back into her seat, smirking calmly. But the window beside her had a symbol drawn into its condensation: { **;)** }  
  
_Oh, my._  
  
The pair contained their childish snickering, and Haru managed to draw with her fingertip a reply on her own window: { **:o** }  
  
Hifumi let a small laugh drop in a hum, and Haru chuckled through her nose. They both streaked their palms across the windows, wiping the faux emojis away.  
  
Tucking their hands neatly into their laps and keeping them there, they continued to ride in silence, admiring the rain-slick highway at dusk. Haru felt a sudden pang of bitterness at the situation. Was she doing the right thing, being so reserved like this? Surely, it would be inappropriate to initiate too much discourse or...anything else, for that matter, so soon into such an occasion, and in a car of all places, with potentially curious eyes nearby.  
  
Yes, right, of course.  
Reservation.  
Patience.  
  
It was strategic. Hifumi was playing the same game.  
  
Neither of them wanted to 'win.'  
  
So the 'game' would continue.  
  
The combination of exhaustion and warmth mixed with the floaty sensation Haru felt when Hifumi's glance crossed over her. Haru felt herself doze off briefly, nudged awake by a soft but firm grip against her bicep. Blinking awake as her face burned up – she swore her cheeks would be like overdone dumplings by the time the evening was over – Haru noted they were pulling into a side road of Shinjuku near their appointed place.  
  
“We've arrived,” said their driver. “Would you like an escort to the bar?”  
  
“I believe we'll be fine,” Haru said, exchanging a look with Hifumi for confirmation. She received a nod. “I'll call you when we're ready.”  
  
“Understood, Madame.”  
  
“Well.” Haru took up her umbrella, turning to Hifumi. “Shall we?”  
  
“Let's,” said Hifumi, chin up.  
  
The duo excited Haru's vehicle, seeing him off. Side by side beneath their umbrellas, they walked across the water-logged streets of Shinjuku, passing by all manner of places and people. The neon lights of the district were being lit at this hour, and while many questionable things could be said of the Red Light District, Haru felt as comfortable as could be with Togo-San at her side. An uneventful but moody walk took all of a couple minutes before they arrived at their dive bar destination.  
  
They entered the little door, tucked away in Shinjuku beneath a plain staircase and a _giant_ pink sign. Passing into a moody, dimly lit hall of barstools, bottles, and neon, Haru felt her nauseating nervousness get stirred as a shot of delight was poured into it. The round-faced woman with the purple hair behind the counter gave Haru a beaming grin as they entered. She fidgeted with her kimono, leaned over the counter, and scoped out Hifumi, who appeared instantly out of her element. She could feel her face oozing flustered excitement when she saw Hifumi's eyes widen at the neon sign hung on the wall.  
  
Depicting a heart, it read in English:  
**{ WELCOME }  
{ LOVE }**  
  
“ _Ohhh~_ Welcome, welcome!” Escargot-San bade them.  
  
“Good evening, Lala-Chan!” Haru greeted with a bow.  
  
She noticed that Ohya-San was perched at her usual seat, blearly eyed and wobbling as she lifted her head up from what appeared to be a nap. The drunk woman, dressed up in a hoodie and jeans, gave them a floppy wave before yawning and sucking down the last of her current drink.  
  
“Hell _oooo,_ Haru-Chan~” sang Lulu, fluttering her long-nailed fingers their way. “I see you brought a _friend_ with you for once!”  
  
“Yes, yes.” Haru nodded, lightly placing a presenting and on Hifumi's shoulder. “This is Hifumi.”  
  
“H-Hello,” Hifumi greeted, bowing slightly lower than Haru had.  
  
“Hifumi,” said Haru, gesturing toward the barkeep, “this is Escargot-San.”  
  
“ _Please,_ ” the woman insisted, still leaning over the counter. “Call me Lala.”  
  
Hifumi, evidently surprised by the woman's deep voice and physique, nodding politely, her expression pale.  
  
Hifumi murmured out, “Y-Yes, as you wish, Lala-San.”  
  
Ohya tore off her hood, which she had drawn up. It revealed that her ponytail was frayed at the tips and her makeup was streaking down her face. She looked, erh...-  
  
“ _Arrrren't_ choo that...-” Ohya was wriggling her wrist at Hifumi. “-... _Shhhh_ ogi playrr?”  
  
“Ichiko,” Lala sighed scoldingly. “Don't bother the poor woman, can't you see she's here on...-” Lala winked wryly at Haru. “-...very important business?”  
  
“ _Mmrrrhhhaeehhhh..._ -” Ohya's head slumped back into her elbows against the counter, her muffled moaning trailing off into a loud yawn.  
  
“O-Oh, dear,” Haru said, swapping wary looks with Hifumi. “Is-...Is Ohya-San unwell?”  
  
“Always,” Lala joked flatly, aligning her back upright and flicking a dismissive, sassy hand in the drunken journalist's direction. “You just missed Shiho,” explained the barkeep, wiping up the counter around her grouchy regular. “The two of them got into it a bit, and Shiho left on a sour note, shall we say.”  
  
“Shiho?” Hifumi muttered quietly. She whispered over Haru's shoulder. “As in...Ann's...-?”  
  
“Mm,” Haru confirmed.  
  
“Sheeeeehohhhh...” Ohya groaned quietly, slowly rolling her head left and right against her own arms.  
  
>>>>>>>  
  
[ Ohya-San seems to have had a bit of an...off week, shall we say, but up until that she appeared to be doing quite well! She's in charge of her own publication now – did you know? And she even hired Shiho-San to intern under her. They specialize in exposing criminal activity, especially abusive individuals like the ones we used to deal with. I guess you could say that Ann and Shiho have become a real power-duo when it comes to confronting that type of behavior. I think you'd be proud of what they've accomplished. I think it gives Ohya-San something productive to focus on, as well. Admittedly, she and I don't get along that well, personally, but I respect her dedication to her work. ]  
  
<<<<<<<  
  
“Apparently,” Lala interjected, all-too-ready with the appropriate gossip, “Shiho's been following a lead on a student who has been getting some... _unwanted attention_ from a police officer recently.”  
  
“That sounds...dangerous,” Hifumi observed.  
  
Lala's brows waggled knowingly, and she continued. “That's what _Ohya_ said, but I guess Shiho is planning on doing some investigatory work on the man.”  
  
“Nnnnoooo...” Ohya whimpered, still face-planted on the counter. “Cann' jus'... _urrrghhh..._ ”  
  
Arms crossed with a lamenting stare down at Ohya, Lala cited, “They got into a _whole_ thing over it.”  
  
Haru and Hifumi were a little dumbstruck by this, but as their eyes slowly slid up toward one another's faces, Haru knew they were both thinking the same thing.  
  
“I _see_ ,” said Haru, still looking at Hifumi, who began to smirk. Turning her head to the barkeep, she grabbed a napkin from the counter, producing a pen from her jacket. “That _does_ sound like a difficult situation...” She placed the items on the counter before Lala, who bent over, took the pen, and scribbled out some text.  
  
“Whuhhifff she gess _hurt_?” Ohya grumbled into her sleeves. She slapped a palm against the booze-drizzled countertop. “Cannt keep _pullnn_ her outta this _shitt,_ ya know...?”  
  
Primly placing the pen down beside the note she'd written, Lala patted Ohya on the head like a parent placating a sobbing toddler.  
  
Lala cooed, “Shiho is a _grown woman,_ Ohya-chan, we've gone _over_ this.”  
  
Haru swiped the pen and napkin up, placing both inside her jacket pocket sneakily.  
  
Haru said, keeping up their little 'act,' “And it's not as if she's _alone,_ correct? She has people looking out for her, after all...”  
  
Haru smiled pleasantly at Lala, who winked – Haru winked back. Ohya mumbled something whiny and incoherent.  
  
Their understanding having been reached, Haru gestured toward the backroom, which offered some privacy with its gaudy curtains. Lala nodded, welcoming them to the room.  
  
“Please, _please_ don't concern yourself over this,” Lala said, flicking her wrists at them to go and sit. “Take a _load_ off, Haru-Chan. Hifumi-Chan. Let me know what I can get you.”  
  
Hifumi grabbed Haru's arm lightly, leaning in to ask what had just occurred, to which Haru lifted up a palm and nodded. It was her way of signaling that she'd explain shortly. Hifumi appeared to get the message and backed off.  
  
“What would you like to drink?” Haru asked her.  
  
Her gaze slipping off toward Ohya, then to Lala, and then back to Haru, Hifumi sucked in a deep breath through her nose, shrugging.  
  
“I, um...-”  
  
“Might we request a bottle of Sangiovese?” Haru decided. She glanced to Hifumi, bright-eyed, smiling at her bold 'move' during her 'turn.'  
  
“That-...” Hifumi picked her jaw up and nodded, suddenly the bashful one. “Yes, that...sounds delightful.”  
  
“Coming up, then,” said Lala. “Take a seat, I'll be with you momentarily.” She disappeared into the back, and the pair were _nearly_ alone, at last.  
  
Standing behind the grumpy drunk at the counter for a moment of awkward, timid excitement, Haru and Hifumi fell silent. Haru snapped to her senses – she was the host in this situation, after all – and guided Hifumi into the back room, which had a padded booth they could share. She offered out her hand toward Hifumi, who was startled in place.  
  
The two stood in a frozen slice of time, each eyeing the other, trying to read intentions and desires.  
  
Hifumi accepted Haru's hand, and was courteously guided toward the table's edge, where she took a seat. Haru found her way around the other side. They removed their jackets, draping them over the booth's edge uncertainly, then sat with narrow-eyed smiles as they awaited their drinks.  
  
A corner of the table separating them, their legs intersected directions. Haru's feet froze up when she realized this, and she mumbled an apology for having bumped heels.  
  
But she felt a cold touch brush up against her shin – the fiber of Hifumi's stocking was smooth, but her skin was chilled from their walk in the rain. Haru's shoulder's flinched but her leg remained still, soaking in the contact like a sponge.  
  
Hifumi's eyes closed for a few seconds as she grinned, laughing quietly through her nostrils.  
  
As Lala's footsteps were heard, the two of them broke their childish gesturing and straightened their backs, raised their chins, and set their hands above the table.  
  
Lala lingered by the entrance – the curtains had not yet been drawn – and studied the two with a sneaky look. _She_ understood what this was, didn't she? Haru bashfully looked away when those prying eyes met her own as Lala set down a pair of wine glasses. Lala then popped open the wine bottle she'd retrieved, placing it squarely between the two.  
  
“Would you two like anything to eat?” Lala checked.  
  
“Ah, um...-” Haru turned to Hifumi, who shrugged, shaking her head slightly. “I think we're all right for now, but...we'll surely let you know should we build up an appetite.”  
  
Lala nodded pleasantly, smiling wide as she tucked her hands behind her back.  
  
“Certainly,” she said, stepping back and reaching for the curtains. “Please, ladies, enjoy quenching your thirst...” And she became a silhouette against the curtains, disappearing back to her counter.  
  
Hifumi and Haru gaped at each other, cheeks lighting up.  
  
“Is it _that_ obvious?” Hifumi whispered in a panic, fussing with the collar on her vest.  
  
“N-No, Lala is...just-...She is intuitive, with...-” Haru trailed off, reaching for the bottle. She rotated it in her hands, ensuring the label faced upward, and poured Hifumi's glass halfway before setting it down.  
  
Hifumi stood up, taking her turn to return the motion.  
  
“Perhaps you could...um, enlighten me...-?” Hifumi mumbled, her words slowing as the music in the bar increased in volume a bit. Lala-Chan giving them a thicker cloud of privacy, it seemed.  
  
Hifumi accidentally poured Haru's glass all the way up.  
  
“ _Augh,_ s-sorry, I didn't...-” She panicked a bit, setting the bottle down, spilling a few drops onto the wooden table.  
  
“Oh, no-no, it's fine, I'm...eager enough to...-” Haru swiped a napkin from the dispenser at the table's edge, mopping up the mess  
  
“I'm not-...It's not that I'd intend for you to get too intoxicated,” Hifumi mumbled sternly. “I wouldn't-...I mean, that's...-” She was shaking her head in a jittery, disapproving manner over something Haru knew she hadn't even done on purpose.  
  
“I _do_ want that,” Haru spurted, grabbing the bottle. She had to even out their glasses. Filling up Hifumi's side, she realized she hadn't clarified. “To-...To be intoxicated, I mean. _Somewhat._ That is, in as much as _you_...-” She gasped, realizing she'd failed to face the label up properly as she poured. “Sorry, I _know_ better than...-”  
  
“It's fine,” Hifumi assured, her words pushed out a bit louder than expected. Clearing her throat, Hifumi's fingers cautiously wrapped themselves around the wine glass's neck. “Nothing to worry about,” she said with a nervous nod.  
  
Haru took up her glass, as well. The two stared at their own reflections in the red wine, then gawked at each other.  
  
They both looked incredibly nervous, and self-aware of how awkward this had all become rather quickly.  
  
“A name,” Haru blurted.  
  
“...Um...-?” Hifumi smiled in a perplexed, polite way.  
  
“The napkin,” Haru explained, keeping her voice even lower. Pointing at her chest, where-...O-Oh, my, she shouldn't...do that! Her, um, she-...Her pocket! She pulled the napkin out of her pocket and set it down on the counter. “It's the name of the, um...-” Haru tipped her head in the direction of Ohya.  
  
Hifumi's nose drew in a steep breath as she leaned back slightly and nodded, her eyes bulging.  
  
“ _This_ is where you've been getting your information,” Hifumi realized.  
  
“Yes, it-...It started out that way,” Haru confessed. “But, well-...Being honest, I've actually come to trust Lala-Chan. She's...-” Haru's nailed drummed along her glass. “She's become a valued confidant, you could say. And a friend.”  
  
“I, erh, I could... _see_ that,” noted Hifumi, her thumbs rubbing up and down her wine glass' curve. “So, should we...arrange a plan of attack?”  
  
Haru was caught off guard.  
  
“...Oh? I, um-...I wasn't sure about-...I mean, I certainly _do_ enjoy your company, I just didn't want to... _presume-_ ”  
“ _Ah!_ N-No, no, I meant-...I was referring to the...-” Hifumi bobbed her head toward the napkin, then toward Ohya.  
  
Haru's lips formed an 'o' before she nodded slowly.  
  
“Right, y-yes, of course, _that._ Certainly, we can...-”  
  
She noticed that Hifumi was winking at her. As soon as Haru caught this, Hifumi's face transformed into a toothy, squint-eyed grin, and they both giggled awkwardly.  
  
Letting the moment calm back down, Hifumi tapped the sides of her thumbs against her glass. Haru squirmed her own hand around, cupping the glass' bowl and preparing to lift-  
“That being _said,_ ” said Hifumi, recollecting some kind of composure. Haru noticed how pink her cheeks were getting. “It... _might_ be prudent to _also_ strategize a plan regarding...-”  
  
Hifumi's chin lowered, her eyes veiled by her bangs. She flicked a finger back and forth between herself and Haru, adorably too nervous to vocalize the words.  
  
_'...a plan regarding_ _ **us.**_ _'_  
  
“...I _see_ ,” Haru breathed out, the edges of her eyes watering up with a joyful rush of exhilaration. She realized they were both still gripping their wine glasses.  
  
Neither taking a proper turn.  
Neither wanting to 'win.'  
  
>>>>>>>  
  
[ The more I think on it, the more I realize that I shouldn't be surprised at how far Togo-San and I have come in our connection. She started as a regular customer, then became a casual friend, and these past few months we've even been collaborating together on private business matters. I don't mean to be guarded about it – what she's been helping me with is quite exciting, and I think you'll be glad to hear about it, it's just the kind of thing I'd prefer explaining in person. You understand. Regardless, she's a valuable source of advice, just as you said she was. ]  
  
<<<<<<<  
  
Haru paused, her eyes flashing with determination. She released her grip on her wine glass.  
  
She wanted to make sure she did this with as clear a head as she could.  
  
Haru walked around the table. She stood before Hifumi, who gawked up at her sheepishly. Haru presented her hand. Hifumi accepted it.  
  
Haru knelt on one knee, lifting Hifumi's wrist to her face.  
  
She planted a gentle kiss against Hifumi's knuckles.  
  
Hifumi burst out an aghast laugh, which scared Haru at first, but then instilled relief a second later when she saw the star-eyed look on Hifumi's face. Writhing her fingers inbetween Haru's, Hifumi slid out from the booth, standing up. She stood _close._ Their eyes were _inches_ apart. Haru could feel the warmth of Hifumi's breath against her own lips.  
  
Hifumi rubbed the side of Haru's palm with her thumb, carefully lifting up her opposing hand to Haru's shoulder.  
  
“Is it... _my_ turn?” Hifumi teased in a whisper. Her eyes wandered down toward Haru's lips.  
  
Haru laughed weakly, her cheeks locked into a smile she couldn't contain. She nodded, looking away out of embarrassment. When she managed the courage to look back, Hifumi's expression was glazed with a collected eagerness. Their eyes reconnected, and Hifumi leaned her face in.  
  
Haru closed her eyes, accepting Hifumi's kiss.  
  
It was a rejuvenating sensation. Warm and cold at once, exciting and nerve-wracking, deliberate and unpredictable.  
  
It lasted only a couple seconds, but it certainly set a tone.  
  
Haru stared at her for a moment, placing her hands against Hifumi's hips while hers lingered across Haru's shoulders.  
  
“Checkmate?” Haru whispered cheekily.  
  
“No,” Hifumi said wryly. “That would imply someone lost.”  
  
Haru laughed quietly, shaking her head as she struggled to contain her glee.  
  
“I suppose the 'game' is over, then,” Haru mused, pulling Hifumi in for a hug.  
  
Hifumi sighed pleasantly into Haru's neck.  
  
“Perhaps,” she acknowledged. “Or maybe the rules have simply changed...”

 


End file.
